Skeletons (6 page)

12

Santana

T
he sounds of hip hop rang through my ears as I made my way through The Loft for Tabitha’s birthday party. I had second thoughts about coming, but after the argument that Mike and I got into I quickly changed my mind and couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I managed to squeeze my way through the crowd and find a seat at the bar next to a model thin woman in an electric blue jumpsuit with micro-braids that reached the middle her her exposed back.

She ran her dark eyes all over my body and smirked at my decision to wear a Diane Vonfurstenberg dress and boots. I was dressed more for a dinner meeting than a club.

“Hi, I’m Lashonda” she introduced. “Good luck getting a drink.”

“Hello Lashonda, I’m Santana.” I smiled.

“I love your dress; where did you get it from?” She asked

“I don’t remember I’ve had this for a while.”

She smiled as if she knew that I’d pulled the vintage dress out of the back of my closet.

Tabitha would often tell me about different people that she met, but I wouldn’t have imagined that her birthday party would have been so packed. It was practically standing room only in the VIP section of the club.

“How do you know Tab?” She asked.

“I work with her.”

“That is how we met too.” she half-smiled as her eyes danced arouond my body a second time.

Uncomfortable with the way her almond-shaped eyes roamed my body I began watching the crowd.

“Is it usually this busy here?”

Lashonda laughed, “You don’t get out much do you Santana?”

“How could you tell?” I smiled.

“It is always this busy in any club in this city. It seems that there is nothing else to do besides go to work Monday through Friday, go to the club on Saturday then go to church on Sunday.”

“Are you from around here?”

She shook her head, “No I’m from L.A. I only flew to St. Louis because Tab insisted that I come to her birthday party.”

“You are here for one night?”

“Yes and I can’t wait to leave.” She tossed her braids over her shoulder.

“You and Tabitha must be good friends for you to have flew all of the way up here just to celebrate her bithday.”

Winking at me, she whistled loudly catching the bartender’s attention “Hey can we get some service?” she yelled.

The bartender finished his last order and made his way towards us.

I raised an eyebrow, impressed with how bold she was.

I ordered a glass of Moscato and she ordered a long island ice tea which she quickly guzzled half-way down.

“That hit the spot.” She smiled. “Now I’m ready to dance! Do you want to join me?”

“No thanks, I think that I’m going to park it right here for a while.”

“I know that you didn’t come to this club just to sit at the bar Santana, come on dance with me I promise that I don’t bite.” she winked her long eyelashes.

I laughed, “Maybe later.”

“I am going to hold you to that sexy.” She said before walking on to the dance floor.

As I watched Lashonda walk through the crowd I noticed Tabitha in the corner having what seemed like a heated conversation with an older woman who seemed out of place in the club. Wearing a black blazer over a crisp white shirt, khaki pants and black flats the salt and pepper haired woman seemed angry at Tabitha. I watched as Tabitha turned to walk away only for the woman to grab Tabitha by the arm. Yanking away Tabitha pointed a finger in the woman’s face, snaked her neck as she said a few words then walked away, leaving the woman standing with tears in her eyes. Noticing that I was watching the exchange Tabitha walked my way.

She looked stunning in a fire engine red corset that barely contained her double D breast; the pair of skinny jeans that looked airbrushed on her curvacous body and a pair of stiletto Louboutin peep-toed heels that gave her short stature four additional inches.

“Santana, I’m glad that you made it!” her embrace took me by surprise.

“Is everything okay?” I asked with a concerned look on my face.

“I’m cool; are you having fun?” she smiled.

“Yes, you have a nice turn out. Unfortunately I have to leave, I have to get home to the family.” I said.

“No don’t leave!” she pouted, “The party is just getting started.”

“It’s getting late and I have to go to church in the morning.”

“Church?” she mused, “I never would have thought of you to be a Bible thumping Christian woman Santana.”

I laughed, “I’m not a Bible thumping Christian woman; my husband’s parents are the Pastor and First Lady of the church so I’m kind of obligated to go.”

“Oh so you married the son of a Preacher man,” she giggled, “How sexy.”

“If that is what you want to call it.” I said seemingly less than enthused.

“Come on live a little and do a shot with me before you go.” She grabbed my hand and led me back to the bar. Looking back I saw the look of scorned written on the face of the woman who Tabitha had words with.

Ignoring my protests, Tabitha proceeded to order two shots of Patron. Holding up her glass to mine she winked and said, “Happy birthday to me!” and threw the warm, bitter tasting liquor to the back of her throat swallowing hard.

“Come on dance with me.” She urged, “It’s my birthday.”

Of all of the men in the room, it was shocking that she wanted me to dance with her. As Tabitha ignored my many protest leading me to the dance floor by my hand, we stepped onto the crowded dance floor; when I looked back the woman scorned was gone.

“You need to loosen up a bit.” She said, “You act like you are an old lady.”

“That is what I feel like sometimes.” I yelled over the quick tempo of Lil Wayne.

“You are far too attractive to feel like that.” Tabitha winked as she dropped to the floor, making her body snake as she came back up; she was so close to me that I could smell her Perry Ellis perfume. “The son of a Preacher man is a very lucky man.” She breathed as she gyrated on my body; I watched the sweat run from the back of her neck down her bare back to no man’s land.

I swallowed hard trying to ignore that familiar feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long time, “Tell him that.”

“Maybe I will or maybe it will be our little secret.” Tabitha ran the tips of her fingers along my already sweaty face, “It’s getting hot in here.”

Confused by her last gesture I continued to dance with her, Tabitha was too close for comfort, but I didn’t want her to go. I tried to ignore the fact that I enjoyed the uncomfortable coziness that Tabitha’s hot, sweaty body offered as we swayed together to the sounds of the music. I don’t know if it was the Patron, but for a moment it felt as if my dance partner and I were the only two people in the room. Feeling the softness of her hand on my thigh as she pulled me closer made me want to hold it there forever. Confused and soaked with the smell of our sweat mixed with that of our perfumes, I walked off of the dance floor leaving Tabitha behind.

Making my way into the bathroom I tried to regain my composure, wiping sweat from my forehead and neck. Soon Tabitha was standing beside me with another drink in her hand.

“Tabitha I really have to go.” I protested, but she handed me the drink and smiled.

“Santana, you are a gorgeous woman, but sometimes I feel as if you underestimate yourself. Have you gotten so use to being a wife and a mother that you have forgotten how to be a woman and a lover?”

Shocked by her audacious question I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t think that Mike is doing his job.” She put bluntly.

Exposed by what Tabitha said I downed the drink. Tabitha said, “Sexually.”

“Tabitha, I assure you, Mike and I are doing fine.”

“Please, is that why your eyes roll whenever he calls or texts you? Is that why you always come to work in a huff? Is that why you look so horny right now, that you could fuck anyone in the other room like a dog in heat?” She whispered in my ear. “You want something Santana, but you won’t allow yourself to fuel the fire that is slowly dying inside of you.”

“I’m not like that Tabitha, Mike and I just hit a bump, but it will get better.”

“When will it get better? When Mike finally decides to pay attention to you? Why does Mike get to decide when it will get better? You need to take matters into your own hands and take care of yourself.”

“I do take care of myself.” I said my head spinning.

I felt Tabitha’s hand on my upper thigh as she whispered in my ear, “Baby, finger fucking yourself three times a week is not taking care of you.”

I stood silently, trying to swallow whatever I was feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Here,” she said handing me a tiny blue pill that was in the shape of a Smurf, “Take this and really take care of yourself.” Tabitha popped a pill in her mouth.

“What is this?” I asked looking at the pill.

“This is your escape; this is your turn to take care of yourself for a chance.” She was so close to me that her breasts were on my arm and her lips were grazing my neck, “Just open your mouth and put it in it is not that difficult.” She whispered seductively.

Tabitha had me in a trance as I did exactly what she told me to do.

“Now sit back and enjoy the ride.” She whispered.

Hearing the music in my ears was one thing, but now I could feel it in my body, coursing through my veins, my heart beating in sync with the music. Tabitha was no longer with me; she was back on the dance floor. I watched her move as if she and I were the only ones in the room with the music playing tunes that only we understood. As if in some sort of spell, I walked onto the dance floor and began dancing with Tabitha.

We moved together as if we had fire inside of our bodies and needed one another to put it out. Tabitha snaked her body against mine like she was a pro, grinding her soft ass against my body and me grabbing her hips pulling her towards me. My hands wanted to touch Tabitha’s soft, moist skin; my lips wanting to suck hers as we moved to the beat of the music. I felt as if I were a King Cobra in a trance and my snake charmer was dancing in front of me and I never wanted to stop.

13

Jovanna

I
t was after two in the morning when I felt Justin get up from the bed and walk into the living room to answer the phone.

“Who was that baby?” I yawned when he got back into bed.

“They had the wrong number.” He mumbled.

Pulling the duvet back over my shoulder I asked, “Who did they ask for?”

“He asked for Marquita; let’s get back to sleep.”

My once drowsy eyes were wide open with my heart was pounding. Wide awake I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Justin asked.

“It’s freezing in here; I’m going to turn up the heat.” I fibbed as I shuffled out of the bedroom and into the living room. I grabbed the cordless phone and took it into the living room so that Justin wouldn’t hear me looking through the caller ID; I scrolled the last number dialed and to my amazement they hadn’t called anonymous, but from a St. Louis area code. Knowing that I couldn’t call the number right back, I wrote it on a post it note and slid it in my nightstand drawer.

“I hope you didn’t turn the heat up on hell Jovanna, you know that I get hot.” Justin nagged.

Disregarding him I tried to get some sleep before I called that number back in the morning.

Closing my eyes, I could see his face just as if he were standing in front of me; his face was a face that I could never forget.

Dancing at the club was something that I hated, but it afforded me a nice room that I rented, it put food in my once hungry stomach and the ability to keep my hair and nails done.

Stripping for money started taking a toll on my mind. I no longer cared about men; in my eyes they were all lousy hounds who came to the club to escape their responsibilities at home. The way that they drooled over the dancers when we put our ass in their faces, was pathetic. How dumb of a woman to allow her man to come home smelling of alcohol and another woman’s pussy.

I was finishing a dance to Prince’s ‘Do Me Baby’ with my legs spread and my pussy in some woman’s husband’s face as he flicked his rent money on top of me; when the song was over and I collected my money I looked to my left and there he was dressed in a red three piece suit with matching gators and fedora. His gold cuff links were the only sparkle in the dimly lit club while the smoke from the thick cigar perched between his lips billowed over his face.

With the snap of his perfectly manicured fingers Chad could have had any girl in the Honey Lounge. We all knew who he was and what he was about because most of us wanted to be a part of it. Chad and his crew hardly ever stepped into the strip club unless it was in search of a new girl. I was mesmerized by his blue-black skin, dark curly hair and eyes as light as honey. The thick scar that ran from the left side of his neck to the right intrigued yet repulsed me. No one knew how he’d gotten the war wound, but I heard that the other guy didn’t walk away from that fight.

Chad was one of the most well-known pimps in Memphis, everyone knew that to mess with him or his girls and his girls knew not to mess with his money. Part of his game was knowing the right things to say in order to get inside of a girls head; once he got inside of her head, he made her worship him by telling her about all of the money that he had, how powerful that he was and how she could be a big part of his world instead of a small part in her own and that was it, she was forever his; the younger the better. Chad didn’t deal with girls over the age of twenty-five, he preferred his girls young, because the older the girl the harder it she was to control. He picked girls who had nothing to run to, girls who were running from something and girls who didn’t have anyone coming to look for them.

I was a seventeen-year-old who thought that I knew it all, but Chad erased all that I thought that I knew and replaced it with what he wanted me to know in return I became who he wanted me to be. He was my puppet master, when Chad pulled a string I did exactly as he commanded.

Chad got me away from the Honey Lounge and into his apartment where he manipulated me into doing whatever it was that he wanted me to do. I was hated among the other girls because he chose me to be his “girlfriend”, but in this profession, a Queens’s reign is short-lived. Always trying to keep his love and interest, I made sure I did everything that he wanted. That included selling my body to strangers in cars, alleys and shitty hotels.

I was one of six girls that Chad had working for him, and each one of us had a quota of at least three-hundred dollars a night and if we didn’t make his money we better stay out on the block until we did and he didn’t care if our feet bled, we’d better not call him for a ride or we’d be riding home in the trunk of his Cadillac. If any girl came up short, he made sure she knew better than to come up short again. Being one of Chad’s girls was not about the money because we never saw any of it once it went into Chad’s pocket; it was about the status.

The next morning after Justin left for work, I went into the living room and dialed the number with my heart pounding in my chest.

“Marquita, I knew that you would call.” The deep familiar voice with the thick Southern drawl said after the fifth ring. I could hear him take a drag out of the Don Diego cigar.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Have you become so high and mighty that you forgot where you came from?” He laughed.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want; you took it from me years ago.”

“I only took what was mine Chad.” I said as I paced the room biting my nails as I often did when I was nervous.

He laughed deeply, “Yours? Bitch I made you!” he yelled into the phone.

His yell made me jump almost dropping the phone, “I made you and don’t you ever forget that. If it weren’t for me you would still be dancing for dollars at the Honey Lounge!”

I wanted to know how he got my number, but I already knew who told him and why. Tasha was Chad’s favorite girl before I came around and she was always jealous of the relationship that he and I had. She sold me out, she told him about my business and where I was based out of after running into her at the party. I knew that she could not be trusted, but what I didn’t know was why she was still dealing with Chad when she had a great career.

I could hear Chad take another puff of the cigar; I could remember the strong smell of those Cuban cigars that he smoke and it made me want to vomit and I also remembered the large marks they’d leave after he burnt me on the leg with one.

“Who was that who answered the phone last night Marquita? Tell me does he know who you really are? Does he know how much money you made on the corner of Fifth and Washington?”

“Don’t worry about who that was who answered my phone. What do you want?”

“Don’t play dumb with me hoe, I want what is due to me, I want my damn money!” he yelled then regained his composure, “You are lucky that I have let it go this long, but I’m trying to give you the benefit of doubt. I want you to doubt yourself the next time you fuck with a man like me. I want you to doubt your intelligence the next time the thought crosses your mind to steal money from a man like me.”

“Fuck you!” I screamed, “You owed me that money, you stole so much more from me than I ever took from you!”

“We had a deal Marquita; didn’t your momma ever warn you about making deals with the devil?”

“You made me a scared, little girl and you wanted me to stay that way and now you are mad that I finally left.”

“Don’t kid yourself hoe, you were just one of many and easily replaced.”

“Like I said before, fuck you and don’t you ever call this phone again!”